Falling Not Quite In Love
by clarkei-the-elvhen
Summary: Three years after Eragon and Saphira leave home, Eragon is plagued with a dream of a girl with the eyes of a dragon. When he finds her near dead, he's sent spiraling on a hunt to not only save her life, but to unlock a secret as old as time. Plagued and pained, Eragon must once again find the strength to fight, with only one question in mind: Will it be too late?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Inheritance Cycle books, so if you haven't finished it, please do so before reading. This story will hold major spoilers. It takes place after the end of Inheritance, a few years afterwards, in fact.

I own nothing but my own creativity to create this story, along with my own characters.

Reviews/comments/tips are welcomed and enjoyed! Thank you!

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Prologue: Something Like A Hello**

The air was cool and crisp, and the small flickers of sunlight through the trees illuminated the colors of the changing leaves. There was still some green left in the trees, and he found himself focusing on the rich color that reminded him of the Spine and his childhood home. However, he only spared it a thought, and his eyes shifted with ease in search of a distraction from the unsettling stir of emotions that washed over him. He focused on the vibrant hued leaves instead; studying the reds, yellows, and oranges that clung to the treetops still. The breeze that blew was gentle, but reminded him of the upcoming fall with its brisk temperature. He shifted closer to the large form that slept beside him, still watching the tree line and the few leaves that fluttered past the trees and landed only yards in front of him.

The mass he rested against shifted, and his gaze lifted to look upon his companion. Her brilliant scales shone like sapphires, and he wasn't sure why he'd thought the leaves were vibrant when beside him sat the most magnificent creature he'd ever seen. Even years later, after she'd first chosen him, Eragon Bromsson found himself amazed that he, out of all men and elves, he was her choice. The memories he'd tried to push away before found him, curling around him like a blanket.

 _I'm a Rider._ He reminded both himself and the memories, trying to force them away with only those words. He took a breath, recounting on memories before the last few years, despite his plea to flee them. The memories burned. They reminded him of his childhood home, the Spine, and all his travels. Before he'd left his land. His home.

The form of his dragon and companion shifted, and his view of the trees disappeared as a giant blue head appeared in front of him. Saphira's large blue eye peered at him, staring almost into him. He knew she'd heard him. He made no motion to block her out, nor did he try. They were Rider and dragon, and despite their differences before, Eragon didn't desire to block her out. Nor did she block him out. Save for the few personal times that they wanted privacy, but after nearly three years together, they rarely separated. They never found the need.

However, with her intense stare, he felt his ears flush, and he turned his face away. When she spoke, her voice was strong and powerful, even with the softness she'd intended. _Little one._

It was one phrase. One small phrase that settled his stomach, and yet his heart remained uneasy. She left the option open to talk, he knew, as he could feel it, but he made no motion to speak. Instead, Eragon closed his eyes and pushed what he felt, his thoughts, and burdens toward her. She examined them through their link, taking her time before she dared speak. However, she could find no words, and instead rested her head near his, her wing draping over him to lock out the cold.

 _I am here, little one._

He nodded, eyes still closed. _I know._

With his last thoughts, he drifted off to sleep. However, despite the comfort it brought him, his sleep was restless that night. Shadows formed in the woods around him, and Saphira was nowhere to be found.

He saw images, people—some family, some friend. One, however, was someone he'd never seen before. A young woman who sat with her back to him. Her form shook with sobs, but no sound came from her. He moved swiftly toward her, throat unable to form the words he wanted. He called out, but like with the woman, no sound escaped. He blinked slowly, and his actions were suddenly sluggish. Eragon couldn't move fast enough.

"Hello?" He called again, and sounds were louder than normal, and his voice sounded like a scream. The woman turned, standing up with one graceful motion. He stopped and caught his breath.

The woman's skin was like light, illuminated with a strange glimmer in the moonlight—the shadows vanished from her, and he felt compelled to move closer. However what kept him rooted was the seemingly unusual black specks that covered her cheekbones, traveling up like a plague to her temples and forehead. Between her eyes were the same black specks. Her feet were bare, and she was dressed in what seemed to be a skirt that was so tattered it tore at the knees, along with a shirt that looked stained and dirty. Her arms were bare but covered in a layer of dirt. He took all this in, but his eyes remained rooted to her face. The black specks were unheard of, and she didn't look sick, but he didn't want to risk anything.

"Are you alright?" He called out, remaining a few yards from her. She looked confused, then relieved, but the woman didn't answer. She stared, and he shifted uneasily. However something occurred to him from all his time traveling. He repeated himself, but this time in the ancient language.

She perked up a little, and then looked even more confused. "I… don't remember anything. I can't remember." She said, and somehow the language was foreign but he still understood it, as if magic illuminated from each word to make him understand. "Where am I?"

"Do you have a name?" He asked, beginning to reach out with his mind to touch hers.

"Where am I?" She asked again, stepping forward. His lungs caught, eyes widening. The specks on her face glimmered, reflecting the moonlight like stars. From her back, two large objects protruded, arching in a strangely familiar way. However his eyes were locked on hers. The orbs that shone like the sun itself, but staring into them he realized they were not bright, but alive. Vibrant. The violet hues reminded him of Elva, but the pupils that sat in the center of her eyes and the specks on her skin left one thought in mind. One thought that echoed. The protruding objects from her back and the shimmer to her skin.

" _Dragon_." He whispered with his mind and lips. She furrowed her brows, confused still. She seemed to recognize him then, as if seeing him for the first time. His own eyebrows rose, and before his very eyes, stood what seemed to be an ordinary girl. All traces of her former self gone. Her eyes were dark, almost like coal in the darkness, and her face was pale without the specks of what were once scales.

"Who are you?" She asked cautiously. He shifted before stepping forward.

"My name is Eragon."

She looked surprised and then confused. "Eragon?" Her voice spoke his name as if they were old friends, and it sent a flurry of warmth through his heart. He realized just how much he'd missed his friends, but pushed the thought away, promising to return to it later. As soon as it was gone, the woman spoke again. "Lydia."

His head snapped up, confused. "What?"

She lifted a single eyebrow, and he resisted the urge to snicker. "That's my name."

He blinked, then nodded curtly. Something occurred to him suddenly, and the awareness of the dream pressed down on him like a sheet. He stared at her. The last person he'd dreamt of was Arya, when she was imprisoned in Gil'ead. The Eldunari had helped then, and he wondered if this was their influence once again. His second thought was worry. "Do you know where you are?" He asked.

She blinked, then shifted. Her arms wrapped around the other, and only after what seemed like a long while did she speak. "Aren't I here? But... Where is here?"

He shook his head, frowning. "What's the last thing you remember?"

" _Cold_." Her voice was suddenly frigid, as if she felt the word deep in her bones. "White. Snow…I think." She whispered, blinking. "I remember falling too, it was fall—then there was snow and I was so cold. This voice found me. She helped me. Told me she could keep me warm. Then I was here."

Eragon shifted, eyes focused on nothing. He tried to place her. Tried to find her. There wasn't much he could do in a dream, but he didn't want to leave her. Not if it meant she may die, or may be close to death. Snow could kill, and from her dress—a part of him knew she wouldn't last long.

"There was this huge… thing. I could see it from the mountain. I tried to reach it, but I fell and everything got cold." She blinked, her eyebrows furrowing with frustration. His mind tried to put the pieces together, but he felt as though he was missing something.

 _Eragon!_ The voice echoed, booming through his being like a jolt of pain. He sat upright, eyes wide. Saphira stood on all fours, staring down at him like she might pick him up and fly away. He reached for her mind, and their minds merged, melding together like two winds.

 _Little one. I was afraid._ She said as her emotions swept over him. Fear, disbelief, and other terrified emotions slammed into him like a shield bash. His confusion was apparent, and she explained that he wouldn't wake up, and that his mind was unreachable—as if a cloak had hidden it from her. Even more confusion ran through him, and he recounted his experience with the strange woman who looked like a dragon.

Saphira shared his confusion, but they tried to ponder together. He'd even went to the Eldunari to speak to them of this, but they admitted that they had no idea what his dream meant, and that a human being and dragon could never be one. The closest thing was of a Rider and dragon, but Lydia didn't seem very knowledgeable of dragons, so they turned that conclusion away as well. Even the elves interjected with her appearance change being that of magic, as was prominent—however none of the conclusions could explain the voice she'd spoke of, or the reason her mind reached out to his.

It baffled them all, Eragon most of all. However the only thing he could think was the idea of Lydia freezing to death in the cold. It sent unease down his spine, and no amount of comfort helped.

All he knew was that they were running out of time.

If it wasn't already too late.

* * *

Forgive me for the short beginning, but the story is a little wonky, and I'm still trying to sort out some kinks. I will try to update every week or so, but please bare with my busy schedule!

R&R! Until next time! :)


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Greetings fellow friends and fans of the amazing book by our wonderful Mr. "No Comment" guy! I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving~!

I worked really hard to get this chapter out (which involved a lot of erasing and re-typing), but I also worked hard to make it acceptable. I've read too many stories about cheesy romances between Eragon and that person's OC, and while that's totally okay, my story won't be like that. I can't tell you exactly what's going to happen (because that would be spoilers, duhhhh~), but I will tell you that I am doing my absolute best to make this story not only realistically possible, but jaw dropping. I always loved when I found that _amazing_ story that I adored like no other, because it made me feel _along_ _with_ the story. That's my goal.

I may or may not achieve it, but that's what I'd like to do.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my own creativity to create this story and my own characters.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

 **Chapter One**

To say he was restless would be an understatement. He was _beyond_ restless. No, perhaps restless wasn't the right word. Eragon was _distraught_. It had been over two weeks since the strange dream with the mysterious girl that visited him, and yet despite both his and Saphira's determination to find her, each clue followed up short, and every path they took ended up as a dead end. Each time Eragon was more frustrated than the last, regardless of Saphira coaxing him to calm down. They both had just come from a council with the Eldunari, and while they had said nothing that should have made him angry, Eragon felt hurt and nearly enraged. During the council, Glaedr had pointed out to them both that the strange girl had only contacted Eragon himself, and while that made sense to him, the Eldunari were suspicious and wary and advised him not to continue. He shared their concern, but it lessened his efforts no more than a bruise might.

 _They're right, Saphira. I know that._ He began, sighing heavily as he paced to and fro. _But she sought me out. I have to help her. I know it's a risk, but the war against Galbatorix was a risk too! A risk we_ had _to take! This is important somehow. I feel it. I, I can't explain it, I just-_

 _Why must you explain it to me? We are one, little one. I know what you feel._ She said softly, settling herself on the balcony that stretched out from his study. It was large enough for her to lay curled up on, but the room itself, which he stood in, was smaller. He paced near her, close to a bookshelf that held scrolls and document entries of his time in this land. Stopping short, he cast her a long glance, realizing she was right.

 _You still doubt._ He said then, tracing his mind over their bound to feel what she felt. Doubt was clear there, but not as deeply as the Eldunari. Their doubt ran like blood in their veins. Saphira held less doubt only because she had been with him when they defeated the evil Rider and false King, Galbatorix. The memory was harsh, but it gave both of them pride still.

 _Yes._ She confirmed, knowing she could not hide it, nor did she need to. _I do not doubt your abilities, but your insight. You are searching for someone who may not want to be found. She sought you out, but did she ever say she_ wanted _your help?_

He thought hard of his dream, remembering as much as he could. It was fairly simple to do so. He'd practically memorized it by now. _No, you're right. She didn't._

 _You are seeking her because of Arya._ Saphira said simply, and he knew that was right, even if he wanted to deny it. Saphira continued: _You dreamt of her, and then sought her out to rescue her. Perhaps this is the same, but why then would she not ask for your help? It would have made both jobs easier._

He pondered this for a moment, leaning back on the side of the bookshelf. He leaned his head back, thinking hard. A part of him realized she was right, and understanding settled over him. He turned to face her, brows furrowed, but not in anger. _You think there's another reason she sought me out then?_

Saphira stared, her large eyes focused only on him. _I do not know what, but perhaps she wants you to search for something._

His brows furrowed further, and his gaze turned away to focus on the ceiling instead. _What could she want me to find?_

He'd asked no one in particular, even if he'd voiced it to Saphira. She had become used to him asking questions that were directed more to himself than her. However she could see the way he slumped slightly, and the way his eyes dimmed. He felt helpless in this moment, and while it had been a long time ago, both Eragon and Saphira felt the same helplessness when Garrow had been murdered.

 _Little one._ She cooed softly, and he spared no time to push off the wall and toward his companion in heart and mind. She allowed him to settle by her forearm, and gently, very gently, she draped her wing over him, enclosing him against her form like a mother would her child. There, he found comfort against her warmth, and soon enough, sleep followed.

xxx

The next few days passed slowly, as if Eragon himself were in a haze.

He kept himself busy enough, training with his swordsmanship, but he knew no one could match him anymore, and soon he grew bored of it. Magic he took up next, however since he knew the name of the ancient language, he'd practically mastered the art as well. Reading and writing were easier, as he still needed to practice to keep his mind fresh and active, and he even took up reading some of the ancestral scrolls the elves had brought with them when Ellesmera sent Scholars to help keep things in order for when the new Riders would come.

Most were boring however, and only a few interested him enough to borrow from the great library they had built. The entire stronghold was more of a city than a fortress, and while safety precautions were made, he thought there was more to do.

Two more days passed, this time he spent them helping fortify the routes the elves planned to take to take reports to Ellesmera and it's Queen. His mind played memories of Arya at the mention of her, however, and he found himself retreating back to his homestead to find peace from them as well.

On the fifth days passing, dead in the night, Eragon awoke to a strange voice singing, but fell back asleep at the lulling sound that vaguely reminded him of elves. The next morning, he awoke with fragments of a war between Dragon Riders and wild dragons, and decided then that he wouldn't read scrolls or books before head anymore, because the dream stuck with him for the remainder of the day. By evening he was tired, and with a departed word with Saphira as she left to go hunting, he found his way back to his home and climbed the stairs, making his way inside.

He found himself in bed almost immediately, but when he shut his eyes, no sleep came.

He wasn't sure how long he'd laid there, waiting and thinking. He thought of his life before they'd left their home of Alagaësia, and even thought back to his life in Carvahall. Memories flooded him and filled his head and heart with unease, but soon enough, as if under some kind of spell, Eragon's eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep once more, the memories he'd been thinking fading away as if to nothingness.

xxx

He was running. Racing. Leaves crunched under his footfall, but he paid them no mind. However a thought fluttered through him, as if another had thought it and given it to him. _They'll hear me._

Shuffling swiftly, Eragon could hear the footfall of others below him, and realized suddenly that he was on a mountain, and however weird that was to him, became even weirder as a sudden voice called out, "Come back here!"

Panic shuddered down his spine, and with a sickening realization, he understood now that he was being _chased_! Someone was running after him! Why? Confusion wracked his brain, and he sorted through all the possible reasons he might be getting chased, and came up empty handed.

He pushed his legs harder, moving automatically, as if he weren't doing it himself. He was grateful that his body still knew how to flee, as he hadn't needed to really fight or flee anything the past few years. Even now, hiding places swam in his mind, and when he searched for the familiar channel of magic, he was shocked to discover it wasn't there.

 _"This way."_ A voice whispered in his ear. He tried to turn his head, but found himself unable to do so. His body just kept running, as if it weren't his anymore. His heart was racing, and something seized up in his chest. _What's going on?_ He thought, and at once a sudden blaze shone down in his eyes. The sunlight split through the tree line, blinding him. A noise of distress left him as he twisted to flee the light, but found himself instead tumbling back downwards, then rolling.

Pain erupted in his shoulder, and he struggled to right himself when he stopped rolling, finding himself dizzy and still unable to control his movements.

 _"I am this way."_ The voice echoed again, and he stumbled to his feet, pushing himself up with his hands. There was dirt on his hands and face, and practically his entire body was covered in leaves that clung to the fabric of his clothing. Reaching up to touch his shoulder, he felt the pain subside as something cold passed over him. No. Not over him. _Through_ him. He could see the figure in front of him, and from their back, he guessed they were a she.

 _She._

His breath caught in his throat. _Her. It's her._ His mind screamed, but he felt sluggish, as if he couldn't move to reach out or to even call out to her. The voice before suddenly sounded familiar, and he realized that _she_ had been leading him _through_ a memory! It was practically unheard of, especially from far away, but it didn't matter, because here she was. Right in front of him. Alive. _Alive._

"You're alive." He said finally, slowly. Ever so slowly. It seemed too slow, but he knew he'd just taken a fall, even if it was Lydia. He was still disoriented.

She stopped moving and whipped her head around, and in the sunlight he could see her eyes were brown, not like coal. Her hair was brown too, like his own, and her face was fair. She looked pale, but it somehow suited her. She looked passed him however, then around, studying everything. He knew at once that she didn't hear him, or see him. He was but a ghost, watching her memory. However something touched his mind, swirling around it like a blanket.

 _Eragon the Dragon Rider._ It said, and while he watched the Lydia before him move, he felt another presence, this one older. It felt similar, but he couldn't place why. It had to be her; Lydia, however somehow he felt like that wasn't quite it. He opened his mind to her, as the voice was feminine, and she spoke again. _Will you bring it back to me?_

Confusion settled over him. "Find what?" He said aloud, wondering if she would hear him. That would tell him if she were close. Even now, he was wary.

 _"You must find it. She will not survive much longer. We must be one."_ It boomed around him this time, threatening him with it's intensity. He winced at the harshness of it, though concern was deep in the stranger's voice.

"She? Lydia? What's happened to her?" He called out, still confused. "Who's 'we'? Who are you?"

 _"She is dying! The outside is no place for her!"_

"What do you mean?" He cried, frustrated at the stranger. "What's happening?"

 _"The world is changing, Rider. The Serpent is coming."_

He blinked. Serpent? Confused and frustrated, he opened his mouth to speak, but movement caught his attention. Turning to Lydia, he saw her touching her shoulder, frowning and swaying. Blood coated where her hand was, and she looked around, suddenly looking very small. He stepped forward slowly, wanting to help but hesitant because of the cold he'd felt before.

Suddenly, she stumbled, as if tripped by air, and slid backwards toward another decline. Another fall might kill her, he knew, and he lunged forward, reaching out for her as quickly as his body would allow, but time seemed to slow and his world blurred-

"No!" He cried, sitting up swiftly in his bed. His eyes felt heavy still, but he was coated in sweat. He panted heavily, and a terror overwhelmed him. Whatever was happening, it involved Lydia and himself, and whatever answered he had received in the dream, more questions followed. Throwing his feet over his bed and hurrying to the main room where Saphira should be, he found that she had yet to return.

Casting his mind in all direction, he sent out a desperate cry. _Saphira!_

He would wait for her to return, and then he would go and speak to the Eldunari. Whatever was happening, whatever was "changing", as the strange voice had said, something felt terribly wrong. Something he wasn't even sure he understood. However he knew now that Lydia was still alive and that she was in danger of dying, and that somehow she needed to be returned "inside", and while he had more questions than answers, he had clues.

So he would keep looking, and somehow, some way, Eragon would find a way to send Lydia home.

* * *

This chapter is shorter than I would have liked, but I hope you enjoyed it as it was written! I'll do my best to get Chapter 2 up soon, but please bear with my busy schedule.

Any tips are welcomed openly! Thanks for reading! Until next time! :)


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I am so sorry for taking so long to update! The holidays and life have kept me majorly busy, and I was stuck with the plot a little, overthinking every detail, but I've found an idea that I enjoy, and am sticking with it. The next chapter will introduce Lydia, so stay tuned! And I will _try_ my best to get it to you much sooner this time around.

I own nothing but my own creativity.

Onward to the chapter! Enjoy! :)

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

God.

Eragon had never been convinced that there was ever such a thing, not like the dwarven Gods, or the human Gods. No, he wasn't sure he believed in any God himself. However, despite his uncertain faith, Eragon found himself pleading to whatever God did exist for help. Help to find the one person he'd been searching for practically every waking moment and even so far as his dreams as well. With every moment, he was searching; scanning the horizon, looking for any signs, any changes. Looking for anything that said, _"I'm here!"_

It was partly silly, and Eragon knew that. He knew what he seemed like. A desperate fool. Saphira had said as much, and Glaedr seemed intent on making him turn back. But he couldn't. Something told him, whether it be God or his own wit, that turning back was no longer an option. He had made his choice. He had decided, and he would see it through.

 _I have to do this,_ he said to Saphira after his bizarre dream that took the shape of perhaps one of Lydia's memories. _I can't do nothing. I'm a Rider, Saphira. I'm supposed to help._ However, she wasn't convinced, because she had her own reason to believe whatever this was; it was some kind of trap. Eragon had thought of that as well, at one point, but that still, small voice in the back of his mind whispered to him that this was what he needed to do. That this was right.

He worked restlessly from that point on, convinced that he'd find some clues or some kind of hint. He had to. Days flew past like seconds, and he felt the familiar burn of purpose with everything he did. However, he was no closer to his goal than before, and it frustrated him. Beyond measure. He struggled with Saphira daily, who'd grown weary of his attempts at something she thought was lost, and Glaedr made every indication that he disapproved of Eragon's foolishness.

His pleas to whatever God may or may not exist became more desperate, drawing him further out into the wilds, searching. He searched until his shoulders ached and his lungs burned from the cold of the winter that seemed to appear out of nowhere. But it wasn't out of nowhere, and he knew that as well. He'd been so busy trying to find Lydia that his own life had flashed by like it was nothing. The purpose to help someone blurring his days together until they were jumbled and he couldn't remember if he had breakfast that day or the day before that.

As things became more and more difficult, and still no clue presented themselves, Eragon felt himself drifting back to the desperate hopelessness he'd felt the day after his very first dream. He remembered it still. He played it over and over in his brain, until he didn't need to force the memories back, like it was second nature, searching for anything that was missing, that didn't make sense.

Searching, until suddenly, it clicked.

 _"Saphira!"_ he cried both in his mind and out loud, scrambling down the stairs of his study, stopping short when her face appeared only feet in front of him. "I get it! The dream, she was trying to tell us where to look!"

Saphira blinked, pulling her head back. She said nothing, however, waiting for him to continue. He did so eagerly. "Do you remember what she said? About the huge thing she saw? I don't know how I missed it before." his voice was harsh suddenly, as if he took the blame for missing what he thought was plainly obvious, "She was telling us where she is! Then the dream, the memory, because that's what it was! A memory! She said she saw something, and then she fell!"

 _To the point then,_ she replied, shifting her gaze. Eragon didn't waver. He knew her doubt.

"She's been right outside our door all along." Eragon's voice trembled, and then he nodded slowly, as if to himself. "She's on the mountain, Saphira. I don't know where, but we can find her."

He waited, and then reached out delicately with his mind. _Please trust me on this_.

Something softened in her gaze, and she moved, turning so that her neck was exposed to him. _Then what are we waiting for?_

xxx

The wind was frigid, like ice that wanted nothing more than to cut through his very core and freeze him solid. His cloak was hardly any help, and the only thing that held back the cold was the spell Eragon cast to keep himself warm. Saphira searched while they flew, scanning the forest for anything out of the ordinary. Everything was coated in white, as if covered by a blanket. Eragon pulled his cloak tighter around himself and breathed out heavily.

 _Everything is white. We'll be searching for days._ His shoulders slumped, a knot forming in his gut. Saphira could feel his worry and sickened fear, but said nothing in return. She had trusted his words alone, and had nothing else to say that would bring him any hope.

However, regardless of her doubt, both Rider and dragon searched. Eragon cast his mind in all different directions, searching every nook and cranny while Saphira scouted from the air. It seemed to go on for hours, and at one point, Eragon brought his hands up, cupping around his mouth and took to the old fashioned way of finding someone. He called out until his throat was hoarse and his lungs burned, but found no sign of anyone answering his call. His gaze wandered back and forth, brows furrowed and hand on his sword, gripping the hilt tightly. His frustration was clear to all.

He stopped only after his heart felt heavy, nerves alit with despair. _We'll never find her,_ he admitted softly, listening to the familiar beat of Saphira's wings as she circled above. _All the magic in the world, and we still can't find her._

Closing his eyes, he ran his hand through his hair, exasperated and tired. He hadn't eaten today either, and the slight tremor in his hand reminded him. Yet he felt no hunger or desire to eat. His eyes peaked open just as Saphira landed near him, looking around to make sure it was clear. Once she was certain, the dragon turned and settled her eyes on him. He felt the stare as if it burnt him, and closed his eyes wearily, willing her gaze away. Even with his eyes shut, her eyes pierced him like knives deep in his heart.

Then, as if by some force neither of them had felt before, something brushed Eragon's mind. His eyes flew open almost immediately, his senses alert and his guard up. Saphira was doing the same, bearing her teeth at the unknown force, as if it could see her. Then, as if as one, both dragon and Rider understood what was happening. Their eyes met, and a single echo passed between them.

 _Lydia._

Eragon was the first to move. He dropped his guard slightly, moving forward with swift and precise movements. The mind that had touched him reached out again, brushing against his tenderly, as if afraid to reach out. The familiarity of it caught him off guard entirely, and when it was dropped, and the other made no motion to attack, he cast his mind in all directions once more, eager and afraid.

 _Are you here?_ His mind echoed with power, and the presence seemed to appear out of nowhere. He felt it almost instantly, seemingly far away, but closer than he had originally thought. He moved swifter now, almost running with his eyes wide and searching. The cold stung his eyes, bringing tears as he ran and forcing him to blink more rapidly, but he paid them no mind. Saphira was above him, her sapphire scales easily spotted between the snowy covered trees. He pressed onwards with Saphira following closely with wide circular arcs in the sky, ready to attack if he should need her.

The voice echoed back, and as if surrounded by an essence of another, two voices rang in his head. One sounded afraid, the other hopeful. _Yes._

No time to ponder, no time to even think, he was almost _flying_. His legs moved gracefully over every stump and twig, and he was reminded suddenly of the memory, of Lydia running through the trees. He wondered if she followed this same path, or perhaps a different one close by. He nearly turned his head to scan for any kind of evidence of her, but was abruptly stopped as Saphira's alarm scurried up his spine.

 _Eragon!_ she cried. _I see something!_

 _What is it?_ Eragon pleaded, and the images flashed in his mind within moments. There, in the midst of the white, was what could only be described as a cave. Blackness seemed to swallow it, as if the ground was charred and not even the frigid temperature could touch its blackness. He followed the directions she gave, running like his life depended on it. Something in his mind told him someone's life did, in fact, depend on it.

He found Saphira amidst the white before he found the cave, which was densely hidden by all who might have searched it, except maybe it was easier from above, as Saphira had found it with some effort. Once he came closer, however, Eragon stopped in his tracks. His breath caught and his eyes widened. The familiar touch brushed his mind, but it didn't linger. Only after a moment, it all but vanished from his mind, drawing back in on itself and seeming to disappear entirely, leaving in its wake a different presence entirely. The new presence he felt was vaguely familiar, as if he'd felt it long ago, but he couldn't pinpoint what that meant. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the cave before them.

It wasn't really a cave at all. The snow was melted away, and all life within a yard of the center was burned away, charred as he had guessed before. The ground was sunken in, as if struck by an intense force; it caved in on itself, blackened and sickly, and all but the center was dead. The center itself was what stunned him the most. While he'd seen many things in his travels and in his teachings, the sight of a single human girl was probably one of the most complex things he could imagine seeing, nor did he think he would believe it had he not seen it himself.

Realization dawned on him slowly then, and before he could speak, Saphira's voice found him instead.

 _This is Lydia_. Her voice held no doubt, unlike all the times before when they spoke of the matter. She looked just like the girl from his dreams, he knew. He remembered her face. Eragon nodded dumbly for a moment, and then it truly struck him. They had done it. Lydia was found.

"We did it." he whispered, "We found her."

As if on cue, Lydia stirred from her resting place, moving as if in a daze. Her eyes did not open, however, and Saphira motioned for him to do something. He did so sluggishly, cautious but curious. As he moved closer, he could see her form better now, and the rags she now wore that might have resembled a decent looking dress before now. With this in mind, and with common decency, he removed his cloak from around his body while lowering himself to the ground near her. He watched her for a moment, and when he deemed she truly was no threat in her current state, Eragon shifted the cloak around her body as best he could. The action made her stir again, but still she did not wake, and he took a moment to adjust himself as he slipped and his arms under her. With one under her knees and the other under her back, he stood and turned, moving from the burnt ground with quicker feet than when he'd approached. Lydia shivered when they moved out of the deadened circle, and he quickened his pace just a little more.

 _We did it,_ he said to Saphira, unable to do anything but repeat himself as he glanced once again over the girl in his arms. His dragon said nothing, but he could feel the comfort she sent him, and settled with that.

Wasting no more time than necessary, Eragon managed back into the saddle on Saphira's neck, securing Lydia with the straps and his arm around her, taking special caution of the cloak that he'd wrapped around her form. Only when he was ready (after checking to make sure Lydia was secure more than twice) did they turn to the sky, setting out back to the Riders' stronghold. Saphira flew as cautiously as she could, which eased Eragon greatly, and he was able to focus on the girl he'd spent so much time searching for, though it was hard to really see her with the wind in his face. It was as frigid as earlier that day, more so with the dipping sun, and quietly Eragon cast a spell of protection around both himself and Lydia.

When the stronghold came into view, Eragon couldn't help but sigh softly at the familiar scene stretched out in front of him. For once, they were returning home successfully. They'd found who they were looking for, even if he had questions for and about her, he was content at the moment to know that she was now safe, and that he had saved at least one life, no matter how small it might seem.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading, and thank you for your patience with my time schedule. I'll try to update sooner, I promise!


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